Autistic Punk
by mattie.147
Summary: "The Doctor frowned. – Explain to me again, how is all that different? What you described is all normal things. Much more normal than what most of you humans do, actually. And you say it's called 'being autistic?" Autistic headcanon from an autistic writer. I'm not a native english speaker - sorry for the unfamiliar dialogue formating.


Humans. They are so weird.

The Doctor was watching Martha speak on her phone. They were about to leave for a planet in the Orion cluster when he heard a very quiet, but annoying buzz somewhere in the console room. Martha didn't hear it (of course she didn't), so she stared at him in surprise as he leapt for her bag that was thrown in the corner and took her phone out. Now he was standing by the console, his hands on the buttons, ready to take off as soon as she hangs up. But she kept talking.

-I'm sorry, Jen, I really can't. I've got so much anatomy to catch up on. I will probably spend the entire weekend studying. Oh no, I'd love to go, really!

Martha's friend from medical school invited her to a public event of some sort. The Doctor knew that she didn't want to go because she told him that before, and now she was trying to reject her friend in a socially acceptable way. The Doctor kept his eyes focused on the control panel, slowly shifting his weight from toes to hills. Listening to Martha made him feel uncomfortable.

-Yes, sure! See you soon. – Martha closed her phone and gave out a sigh of relief. – I thought she would never stop. – She returned the phone to her bag.

-Why did you lie though? – The Doctor asked, still not moving.

-Well… - Martha said, shrugging. – It's the polite thing to do. I couldn't just say that I don't wanna go because it will be boring and because her brother is going to drink too much and will try to hit on me again. So I had to make up a valid reason.

The Doctor didn't argue. Humans never made much sense to him, despite his fascination with their species. Sneakers they make are cool and comfy, and they have tasty food like chips and bananas and cupcakes. Some of humans are wonderful, amazing people. Most of them are. But no matter how many years he has spent learning about them, human behavior is still a mystery to him.

They took off, the TARDIS shaking and spinning like a carousel at the amusement park. Martha grabbed the railings when it shook violently to the left. The Doctor ran around the console, jumping from one side to the other, steering the machine through the time vortex. Old girl wasn't the one to blame for a bumpy ride. The Doctor never used the stabilizers because he thoroughly enjoyed it, with all the shaking and spinning. No wonder he failed his driving exam. He would also leave the breaks on just because he liked the sound it made. Whoosh-whoosh.

Martha looked at him, an expression of excitement and delight on his face. She smiled too. The Doctor was eccentric, quirky. Even a little mad at times. But that's what made him so amazing.

Something was different this time. Martha never asked him to pick her up from university. Usually they would meet outside (or inside) her apartment, sometimes near her mother's house.

He stepped outside the TARDIS near a tall white building. He landed a bit further than he planned, and now he wasn't sure where to go. He decided to follow his direction instincts.

He found Martha in a small sunny garden opposite the entrance to the building. She was sitting on a bench with a book in her hands, reading silently and sipping a drink from a plastic cup. Near her sat a girl with a bunch of copybooks on her lap. She looked younger than Martha, but the Doctor was never that good at telling ages anyway. He approached them, and Martha lifted her eyes from the book.

-Oh, hi. – She smiled. – You are on time today! That's unusual.

-Thanks. – He replied. – Will you introduce me to your friend?

The girl didn't move or say anything. The Doctor made a step closer. – I'm the Doctor. – He said. – Martha told you about me, I hope. What is your name?

The girl looked down and coughed. She reached into the pocket of her jeans and took out several cards. She browsed them, quickly, and showed one of them to the Doctor.

'My name is Tanya. I am autistic, and sometimes I can't speak with my mouth. We can talk when I will be more comfortable. Thank you for understanding.'

The Doctor stared at the card, eyebrows a little frowned. Martha grabbed him by the elbow and walked away from the bench.

-She is a bit different. – Martha said, her voice a bit tense. – She doesn't always speak with her mouth and it's hard for her to communicate, especially with strangers. It's because she is autistic.

-Autistic? – The Doctor asked. He might have heard that word before, but he wasn't sure what it meant.

-Yes, it's a neurotype. – Martha explained. – Her brain works in a different way. She doesn't like loud sounds and neon lights, for example. It's called sensory processing disorder. She experiences the world in a more intense way.

The Doctor was listening attentively.

-And she has problems with facial expressions and speaking. She also likes to move in a certain way. – Martha looked at Tanya, who was playing with her tangle, fingers moving quickly around the plastic. – But she is really smart! – She added. – She is the best student in our class, knows her material back and forth. It's called a special interest, I think.

The Doctor frowned. – Explain to me again, how is all that different? What you described is all normal things. Much more normal than what most of you humans do, actually. And you say it's called 'being autistic'?

Martha always knew the Doctor wasn't like an average human. It made sense. He is an alien - of course he is nothing like her and other humans! But he also reminded her of someone, and she couldn't quite put a finger on it. Until now.

Tanya was her friend since the first year at med school. She was really shy and introverted at first glance, but it took just a little encouragement and understanding to gain her trust. Tanya was like two different people in one. When surrounded by a crowd in class or in public places she was quiet, silent, frightened by the slightest sounds. She could communicate only in sign language. But when they were alone with each other, studying at Martha's place or in the garden outside, it was as if Tanya came to life from a long sleep. She would talk in beautiful, complex sentences, use medical terminology as if it was her native language and made her laugh to tears with hilarious improvised jokes.

'The world is a very hostile place for me', Tanya explained. 'It takes a lot of energy to manage it. But when I don't have to cope, I can be myself'.

The Doctor reminded her of Tanya in many ways. The way he moved, running, spinning, jumping up and down when he was excited or happy. The way he talked, quicker than his brain could figure out the words – to the point where his speech blended into a colorful cocktail of nonsense. The way he talked specifically about space and planets and different alien species, so much information and small details that he learned over the years. The way he behaved, always doing the same things every day she saw him: touching the doorknob on the entrance door three times, buying the same food no matter where in space and time they happened to eat, making the same number of circles around the console (even if he didn't actually need to). And the subtle movements of his body that she secretly loved to watch – ruffling his hair, playing with his fingers, pulling on buttons of his shirt.

Now it all clicked! Maybe the Doctor's species was an equivalent of autistic humans. Maybe they were the absolute majority on his planet. The Doctor was obviously confused at the idea that autistics were in the minority on Earth. Now how does she explain it to him?

-You know what? – Martha said, while on their way to the TARDIS. – I think you should speak with Tanya. I will ask her about it, and when she is prepared, she can explain it to you. I'm not really the right person to talk about autism. I mean we studied it on psychiatry lessons, but I'm not the expert.

-Okay. – The Doctor said. He had so many questions, but it looked like he will have to wait.

Tanya agreed to talk in Martha's apartment. The room was such a mess, and Martha was trying to make it look more like a human habitat and less like a crime scene. Tanya didn't like messes, so every time she came to hang out at her place she would start cleaning it, and that made Martha feel very uncomfortable.

She put the kettle on and prepared two cups. Tanya only drank mint tea with one spoon of brown sugar, and she brought it with her on her first visit. The Doctor would drink any tea, but Martha remembered not to put sugar in it for him. One time she caught him 'accidentally' spilling the tea she made for him just because he didn't get to add the sugar himself.

Martha smiled to herself. Looks like she had a habit of forming friendships with neurodivergent people.

The Doctor showed up first. He stood awkwardly on the threshold, waiting for an instruction of some sort.

-I parked the TARDIS behind. – He said. – Behind the building, I mean. Not behind me. Behind can be anywhere in space, actually. Behind mountain Everest, or behind the Milky Way galaxy. There's always something in front, right? If you are behind something that means that something is in front of you?

-You are talking nonsense again. – Martha said.

-Am I? I didn't notice.

He followed her to the living room/bedroom/dining room and sat at the table.

-You can't tell her you are an alien. – Martha said. – Everyone in my class is already suspecting something. I don't want more rumors.

-Okay. – He replied. – I will make something up as usual.

There was a knock on the door, and Tanya entered the room. She gave Martha a polite smile and sat at the table opposite the Doctor. She coughed again and took her tangle out of her pocket. Martha brought them the tea and watched the Doctor add sugar to his cup, exactly two teaspoons carefully filled, almost to a single grain.

-I will leave you alone, I guess. – Martha said, taking her coat.

-So… - The Doctor started. – Can you speak today?

-Yes, I think. – Tanya replied. – I can't speak when I'm worried, or when I don't know what to say. – She paused. – And sometimes I pretend that I can't speak if I don't like someone.

The Doctor smiled. – When I am worried I speak even more, but it's mostly nonsense. But other people mistake it for being smart.

-It's because they hear smart words that they don't understand, and it confuses them. – Tanya said. – I know that feeling. – She blew on her tea. – You wanted to talk about autism then?

-Yeah. – He said. – Can you just give me a 101? And then I may ask you some questions.

-Okay. – She twisted the tangle in her hands. – So autism is a neurodevelopmental difference, it's a certain way my brain works. Officially it's called a disorder, but, you know, a lot of things have a history of being classified as a mental illness. Not being straight used to be a 'mental illness' too.

The Doctor nodded. That was another thing he never really understood about humans: some of them only liked people of the opposite gender, and some of the same. Considering that he could never figure out what 'gender' even meant he gave up on trying to understand it a long time ago.

-Autism mostly affects the frontal lobe of the brain. – Tanya pointed at her forehead with her index finger. – It's where a lot of functions are. Communication, perception, executive functioning, planning, working memory. That's why autism affects everything in my life. It's who I am, and it can't be separated from me. – She sipped her tea, inhaling the smell of mint. – So many things about autism, hard to know where to start.

-Start from the beginning. – The Doctor said, also drinking his tea. – And don't compare yourself to others. Just tell me what it's like being you.

-Okay. – She agreed. – So other humans don't really make sense to me. They have so many rules and habits that I don't understand. It's called social protocol, and it's the silliest thing ever. They expect me to do so many things: read facial expressions and intonations, know so many algorithms that they use, be "polite" and have conversations. Conversations are hard. Sometimes I don't know when to stop talking. I don't like being interrupted and I speak in monologues. And only about things that are interesting, like medicine. It's my special interest. – She smiled. – And it's not like I hate other people or want to be alone, no. I like talking. But some people are accepting, like Martha for example. And some are not, like my classmates or my parents.

I make an effort to understand them too. But it's so confusing sometimes. Like I see my friend crying and I really wanna help them, but I don't know why are they crying and what to do. And all the rules of how to be polite and act in different situations don't make sense at all. Usually I can pretend like I understand them, but it's not true. I don't wanna be rude, but a lot of times I am. Or at least that's what other people say.

And the world around me… sometimes it's just too much. I hate loud noises, I can't stand them. I carry my headphones with me and cover my ears. Tastes and smells are also intense. There's not that much food I can eat. Most of the things others love taste like poison to me. And some smells makes me nauseous as soon as they reach my nostrils. I have to carry a handkerchief with me and I breathe through it so I don't throw up. – She took the fabric handkerchief from her pocket to show it. – It smells like mint.

I mean, it can be a good thing too. Sensory processing disorder is both a blessing and a curse. I love listening to music; it's such a nice experience. And some smells are so good I wanna inhale them all day long. It all depends on what I am feeling.

But some sensations are not enough. Proprioceptive, for example. It's the feeling that tells you where your arms and legs are in space. I am clumsy. I bump into things, I trip and fall. Sometimes I kind of forget how to walk. But at least my fine motor skills are… well, fine. – She shrugged. – I don't know how I would get through med school with butterfingers. My vision is a bit too focused. I see things in front of my face very well, but not what's going on in periphery. That's another reason why I feel bad in crowds and busy places.

I can manage some of it. There's a thing, an autistic thing – it's called stimming. – She showed the tangle in her hands. – Short for self-stimulating behavior. Sounds bad, but it's actually very fun. You can stimulate some of your senses to compensate for the lack of it or block out something unpleasant. I smell my hanky and it blocks out the nasty smell. I listen to music and it helps me put up with noise. And when I'm happy I do this. – She flapped her hands a bit. – It's my alternative to smiling. There is a lot of things you can call stims.

-What about jumping? – The Doctor asked. – Sorry, I know you don't like being interrupted.

-Jumping up and down is a stim. – She replied. – And pacing is a stim too. Almost everything that is repetitive and stimulating can be a stim. I like to hum tunes to myself, it calms me down. And also there is echolalia – it's when you repeat some words and phrases, either because they sound nice or because it's your way of communicating. I have a phrase that I like to use, "Remember, licking doorknobs is illegal on other planets". It's from SpongeBob and people say that it's childish, but I think it's great. Sometimes I say it accidentally.

-Licking doorknobs **is** illegal on one planet, it's called… - The Doctor stopped himself. – Sorry, nonsense again.

\- Then there are special interests. – She took a deep breath in. – The best thing about being autistic. My special interests are medicine and dogs. I know all the dog breeds on Earth. All of them. When I was in high school my special interest used to be Star Trek, and I could recite entire episodes of it. Now it's just a hobby, but I'm still a fan. And I still remember some of the episodes.

Special interests consume everything. It's the first thing I think about when I wake up and it's my favorite conversation topic. I can talk about it all day. I have so many books and I collect plush dogs and go to agility shows. But I don't have a dog myself. – She sighed.

-That's terrible. No one should live without a dog in their life. – The Doctor said.

-I will get one, eventually. – She said. – If I find a flat where you can keep pets. Special interest is a superpower. It's what makes me so great at what I do. I'm not a genius, but I'm the best in my year and the first one on the list for internship program in London. I wasn't too good in high school though.

-I wasn't good at high school either. – The Doctor confessed. – It had too many rules and not enough freedom. – He thought of a human equivalent of Academy Advanced program. – I dropped out on the first year, failed my exams.

-Well. – Tanya said. – Schools don't accommodate autistic people enough. So it wasn't my fault, really.

Anyway, my special interests are medicine and dogs, but anything can be a special interest. A celebrity, a TV-show or a book, fashion, science, some activity like cooking…

-Space? – The Doctor asked.

-Sure. It's quite popular, actually. Trains are supposed to be a classic special interest, but personally I never met an autistic who had it. – She paused to finish her tea. – I talked about communication, sensory processing disorder, stimming, special interests… oh, there are also routines. It's like a mental plan you have in your head of how things are supposed to go. For example when I wake up I always listen to my playlist, get up, touch all my plush puppies and eat breakfast. If something breaks those steps, for example if I forget my player somewhere and have to get up before listening to music I get really upset and the whole day goes to waste. One time I missed school just because they changed the timetable and I couldn't prepare for it. That wasn't just one time, actually.

And I have so many routines and habits and I have to follow them all, or I feel very uncomfortable. Sometimes if things go not as planned, I have a meltdown. – She looked down.

Most of the time she was politely focusing her gaze on the Doctor's forehead, even though he didn't seem to notice it. His eyes wandered around the room, picking out details and building a picture in his head. Faces aren't so interesting to look at anyway.

-You don't have to explain if it makes you uncomfortable. – The Doctor said.

-No, I… - She sighed. – It's a bit embarrassing. Meltdown is a protective reaction. When I can't handle something anymore, I close my eyes and start screaming. And the more people try to calm me down and stop it, the more I scream. I stop only when I get into a safe place and recover from it. It's not my fault but people think I do it on purpose to attract attention – even though attention is the last thing I want when I have a meltdown.

Other autistics have shutdown sometimes, it's also a protective reaction but it looks different. They go very quiet and absent, don't react to anything and seem a bit comatose. I wish I could have that instead of screaming. – She took some time to change the subject.

-Well, that's all the major things. There's so much more, of course. Sleep problems, auditory processing disorder, anxiety and alexithymia…

-What was the last one?

-Alexithymia? It's inability to understand and process your own emotions and feelings. It can be really annoying, especially when you start crying for no reason and can't explain it to other people.

The Doctor made a mental note to remember that word.

-So… - The Doctor didn't know how to word it properly. – Ahmmm… you said that people don't always accept you.

-Yes. – She said. – Allistics, I mean people who aren't autistic, they don't like people who are different, so they try to make us "normal". – She maid air quotes with her fingers. – Suppress autistic behavior, make us look and act as neurotypicals. They call us nasty words like 'retard'. – She flinched at the sound of the word. – But it's nonsense! I am autistic and I am wonderful. I don't have to pretend to belong. I am happy being myself. – She smiled and twisted the tangle again and again. – Do you have any questions?

-Plenty. – The Doctor said. – But we've been talking for almost two hours already. I think Martha will return soon.

-Can I ask you a question then?

-Okay.

-I think I know why you wanted to talk to me. So, after listening to all this… do you think you are autistic?

He smiled, awkwardly. – I am me. I just never had a word for it.

-'Autistic' is great word! – Tanya said. – If you feel like it describes you well, use it. There is no shame in being who you are.

-Of course. – He said. – Thank you. Really, you were very helpful.

-No problem. – She got up, and the Doctor followed her example. – Here. – She gave her tangle to him, and he accepted it.

-Oh, I can't take this…

-Sure you can. I have another one at my place, and I saw you pulling on your buttons. Take it before you tear them all off.

The Doctor put the rainbow colored toy in his pocket.

Martha and the Doctor returned to the TARDIS - he promised to take her to Nebulonian flower market in exchange for her help. They walked side by side in silence, the Doctor twisted Tanya's gift in his hands.

-She gave you one of her tangles? - Martha asked, surprised. - She never lets anyone touch them.

Before today the Doctor had no idea that there were humans like him who made words for things he experienced and who could actually understand him. Of course back on Gallifrey he knew a lot more people he could relate to, but it was different. Time Lords weren't rebels like him and Tanya. They never really understood him.

Everything changed over the years with each new incarnation. Every regeneration brought new sensations, new habits and new problems. His current body was somewhat similar to his first ever incarnation. Similar shades of the wild mix of colors.

Just like it was in his childhood he was particularly good at seeing things. Absorbing every wavelength of light available to his eyes, he could pick out the smallest details and notice tiny changes in the picture. He loved watching certain things: fire, night sky, flickering lights of the TARDIS console. He remembered himself as a kid, sitting on the grass outside Academy and watching the two bright Suns. He would flick his fingers in front of his eyes, closing them for a moment to recover from the sudden flares. It never failed to entertain him.

Of course sometimes light was too much. It burned his eyes and made his head hurt. The lights in his bedroom were always dim, just barely visible. Sometimes pictures would blur and fall apart, and the whole world looked like a messed up jigsaw. He had couple of ways to deal with that. For one he had a pair of glasses that didn't magnify anything, but blocked out some wavelength of light instead. It helped him focus on what was in front of him, making the picture more detailed and stable. Everyone else thought that he wore the glasses just because it made him look smart, and he didn't argue.

He also had a gap in his fine and gross motor skills. His fingers were very precise and easy to control, he could repair things with them and write in neat handwriting. Back in Academy he was famous for his Old High Gallifreyan skills, even though his teachers thought it was useless.

But his coordination was not as great. Just like his new friend Tanya he was used to bumping into things, tripping and falling. He could control it when he wasn't too distracted, but sometimes there was nothing he could do. Still he loved the way his body moved. He would run, jump, spin and pace. That's what he used to do when he was a child.

Sound was a bit on the hypersensitive side, but not too acute. Taste, on the other hand, was completely out of control. Some things tasted like death. Pears, for example - there was nothing bad about them, but that taste in his mouth made him twitch. Touch seriously lagged behind, and he did everything to get tactile stimulation. He touched everything around him and constantly fidgeted something in his hands and played with his fingers. He was ready to hug a complete stranger just for the feeling. His favorite thing to do was ruffling his hair, just like in his very early years.

Maybe because of all these similarities he was so fond of his current incarnation. It reminded him of childhood. Every regeneration always brought so many confusion and changes... he would rather have the same sensations for the rest of his life.

So many other things Tanya described were perfectly applicable to him. Special interests, routines, communication problems... he learned to cover up for his confusion with his mediocre telepathic abilities, and TARDIS translation explained sarcasm and subtle intonations to him. Everything else could be brushed off, him being an alien after all. Of course humans saw him as weird and quirky, but it wasn't a bad thing.

One thing about Tanya that impressed him the most was her defiance. She was proud of being herself. She didn't let the society change her. She was a punk autistic.

The more Martha thought about it, the more sense it made. Of course the Doctor is autistic. Who else can have such a new and divergent view on things? What made him so good at solving puzzles and problems? And last but not least, only an autistic could not notice the giant crush she had on him.

-Learned something new today? - Martha asked before he had time to take off.

-Not new, just in different words.

-So... - Martha wasn't sure if she can talk about it. - Are your people, you know, your species... are they autistic?

-Not all. - He replied. - But the majority, yes. They aren't like Tanya and me though.

-Why?

He paused to find the right words. - Time Lords have a lot of control over mind and body, much more than ordinary Gallifreyans. And when Rassilion started our civilization, he decided that some things about us are not as great. And they started changing them, pushing them away. They came up with rules and protocols that replaced our true, genuine selves.

I thought it was extremely silly and ridiculous. I didn't agree, I wanted to do what I wanted and feel like I wanted and be who I really was. It was a part of being a rebel. Unfortunately others didn't share my opinion.

'Stop that', 'don't move like this', 'you are doing it wrong'. 'Behave like a Time Lord, learn to control yourself! You are not a baby anymore. This is how primitives do things - you don't wanna be a primitive, do you?'

The Doctor flinched. Martha could see that it wasn't easy for him to talk about it.

-Academy education lasts for more than a hundred years. Can you imagine, a century of people grabbing me by the shoulders, hitting me on the hands and telling me that who I am is wrong?

-And you were the only one?

-Well, I had one friend. His name was... - 'Koschei' he wanted to say, but stopped himself. - It doesn't matter. He was on my side even though he wasn't like me. But he agreed that the rules and protocols were ridiculous. Still beat me in almost every class. Except for physics, of course.

Martha smiled. - I want you to know that I'm not judging you. You don't have to pretend in front of me.

-I don't do much of that, no. I know that you humans don't like some of the things, autistic things - but I rarely stop myself. Takes too much energy. I've got better things to spend it on.

-Good. - Martha said. - Now take me to that flower market.

He wasn't completely honest with her. Of course he censored himself sometimes. It's hard when society rejects you for who you are. He learned his lesson - some things he has to suppress to not be isolated. He has to make an effort and not be rude, he has to put up with the sensory overwhelming world sometimes, and he has to stop himself from lecturing everyone about planets of the Milky Way. But he is still a rebel. And there is one thing he learned from Tanya today. From now on he will secretly refer to himself as an autistic punk.

-Well, that was exciting! - The Doctor rushed inside the TARDIS, took off his coat and threw it on the railings around the control panel. They just came back from a convention dedicated to an astronomer who discovered more than 40 stars in the 'Blizzard Cluster'. - Did you like it?

-I did. - Martha said, quietly.

-Did you like it, or did you _like_ it? - He asked. - Meaning did you actually like it or are you just being polite?

Martha shrugged. - I... I'm being polite.

-Okay. - The Doctor said. He wasn't mad at her. - This time you choose.

He listened to her instructions and began pushing buttons on the console. 'Humans' he thought to himself, but quickly corrected it. No: 'allistics'.


End file.
